Lolita
by Wind Alias
Summary: He wasn't in love with her. Rather, he was in love with her memory. Multi-Chaptered, Young!AlicexHatter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Oh, I wish…

**Author's Note: **Written because deep inside I had this burning desire for a Young!AlicexHatter and didn't find one anywhere. If you've seen a good one around, I'd really appreciate it if you send me a link.

So, about this. I tried hard to keep The Hatter's character intact, as well as try and invision Child Alice by incorporating her attitude from the book and the absolutely miniscule glimpse of her you get in the remake. I also really tried to write this as _love_, and not _pedophilic older guy wants young booty call_. That's not how it is.

This will be a multi-chaptered piece, so hopefully you'll stick around. Things get interesting. So enjoy!

**Warning: Young!AlicexHatter.**

**xxoxxoxxoxx**

_It's not her._

It was the first thought that shot through The Hatter's mind.

_This is not her._

He watched in silence as the young woman peeked around the room. The sinking fear in his stomach was becoming cold, extinguishing the weak flame of hope that had begun to kindle in his heart.

This was not his Alice.

He remembered_ his_ Alice, and well.

**--**

_She sticks her toes in the warm sand of the bank, wriggles them in wonder. "I've never been to the shore, you know," she informs him matter-of-factly, as if the simple idea that he hadn't known this greatly offended her. "I'd rather much like to explore it."_

_He lays sprawled there, eyes fastened to the beautiful child before him. She is not looking at him; instead she keeps her eyes firmly rooted to the course ground. But he can tell by the sound of her quickened breathing, the faint thump of her beating heart that she is watching him from the corner of her eyes, waiting for him. Waiting for him to take the bait._

_He shifts slightly, tan hands sleepwalking through the sand, catching her pale digits in his own. "Do you," he murmurs against the soft flesh of her arm, words muffled against the gentle vanilla of her skin. He feels her edge closer to him in the sand, and when he looks up, one brilliant blue orb is staring intently at him._

"_Let's explore, shall we?"_

**_--_**

They watched from behind the door quietly, like voyeurs observing an intimate moment. His brow furrowed when he watched her gaze around almost desperately, not yet noticing the small, corked bottle fading in stealthily atop the circular table.

_Shouldn't she remember this from before?_ He thought worriedly, but with that thought came another: _Could she have forgotten me as well?_

No. She couldn't have, he reassured himself. His comforting was half-hearted and he knew it.

Could she have?

**--**

"_Yech," she says. He watches with interest as her lips curled into an irritable half-frown. "I'm all wet!" she looks to him as she expects an answer._

_He shrugs in response, if only because he is too busy wringing his own clothing out to respond. "Well, of course," he says finally, grinning at her. He crouches in an attempt to become eye level with her; finding himself a few inches short, he giggles in amusement at the strange feeling of having to look up at the young child. "What else could you have expected of a Caucus Race? We were racing underwater, you know."_

_She considers this, or at least pretends to do so. She rubs her chin in mock thoughtfulness, then bobs her head as if, ahh, she's come to an understanding. She looks very adult, much too adult for his liking._

"_I like you much better short." She announces. Her fists are planted firmly on her hips as she rocks back and forth with feigned importance._

_He raises a fiery brow at this. "And why is that?"_

"_Simple," she chirps, and her rough lips graze against his forehead with deliberate slowness. He finds himself mildly shocked at this, and then surprise melts into happiness. She never ceases to surprise him._

_The child bends her knees until she is level with him. "It's much easier to kiss you this way."_

**_--_**

"Shouldn't she remember all of this from before?" Mallyumpkin remarked crossly, bringing life to his unspoken fear. The cold knot in his stomach sank a bit lower.

"She's the right one. I'm sure of it. Just give her a chance." He disagreed. Mallyumpkin sent a dark look his way, but eventually she unfolded her furry arms and settled them on the hilt of her sword.

"I'll take your word for it for now," she muttered darkly. She stroked the hilt fondly before glancing up at him. "But if you're wrong…" she trailed off threateningly. The others murmured their agreement, but he didn't hear them. His face was flush against the door, watching, now, as she finally discovered the bottle and downed a large gulp. She didn't remember any of this.

But she had to.

…

Didn't she?

**--**

_The fruit is bruised and brown, filling the air with its half-rotten scent. He turns it over in his hands, hardly minding that as he did so, a thick, golden brown substance trickled into his palm and down his arm. He inspects it curiously._

"_Hatter?" something rustles in the darkness, and he turns his attention away from the apple. She is sitting up, no longer covered by his jacket which served as a blanket. Her eyes are half-lidded from sleep and her face is pink and clammy from the closeness of the fire. "What are you doing?"_

"_Thinking," he replies honestly. He straightens from his half-crouched position. He still holds the decayed fruit. _

_He knows she is now intrigued; from the corner of his eye he spies her sitting straighter, body turned completely towards him. He notices with great worry that his coat is dangerously near to the flames._

"_Alice," he says, a slight whine slipping into his voice, and bright child that she is, she understands immediately. Grabbing the coat, she hauls it into her lap and sends him an apologetic look. She pats the cloth down gently to show that it was okay, stopping only when he smiles briefly._

_As he glances upon her, he drinks in the sight of her sleepy form. Thin, pale shoulders that resist all weather's attempts to brown them. Messy, golden hair that sweeps to one side, pooling over a single bony shoulder. Blue eyes that remain wide with wonder no matter the time. _

_The edge of his lips twitch, then bloom into a full-blown grin._

"_About what?" she asks under the mask of politeness, but he sees beyond the façade to her real reason: raw, unadulterated curiosity._

"_About…something." He muses, avoiding her question intentionally. He wants to see where this leads. _

_Pursing her lips, she swings her legs from out under their covers, laying bare her stocking covered thighs. He averts his eyes as the skirt of her dress rides upward, flashing a tantalizing bit of milky flesh into the night air. She strides towards him, and once again he is shocked with how absolutely adult she manages to act sometimes._

_Before she reaches him he tucks his hands behind his back, shielding the fruit from her piercing gaze as well as managing to smear it across his under shirt._

"_What are you hiding from me?" she says, curiosity growing in her voice._

"_A something," he says playfully. He wonders if she knows he's playing her own game; laying the bait, then laying in wait. "Guess what it is and I'll show you. Better yet, answer my riddle and I'll show you."_

"_Why must I answer a riddle?" she objects. "Why can't you just tell me what it is?"_

"_Because," he says gleefully. "It would be far too easy that way."_

_She pouts, then gets on tiptoe to try and see over him. But she was a child, and much smaller than he was. So instead she frowns and stuck out her lip. "Fine," she says. "Give me the riddle."_

"_Alrite," he winks, deliberately stalling - she was adorable when she was irritable, "What's brown on the inside, but wormy underneath? What is adored by those of smaller sorts, but loathed by those with teeth?"_

_He waits patiently as she deliberates. Finally, he sees the sparks go off, and she turns to him excitedly and blurts, "A rotten apple!"_

"_Right you are, my child." He praises as he lifts her, careful to look away when her skirt once again creeps up dangerously, and carries her off to her bed in the campsite before returning dutifully to his own._

**_--_**

His doubt was well along the steady transition into despair when Nivens whispered, "Well, she's found the cake."

Sure enough, a very small person was digging into the tiny pastry, spewing even smaller crumbs as she bit down.

His doubt hesitated for a moment. Perhaps he had been wrong to doubt her so quickly? Watching her intensely, he felt the warm flicker of hope beginning to build up once again in his chest. As he gazed at her she began to grow until she was flush against the roof, head cocked at a very uncomfortable looking angle.

"Well, she's certainly as stupid as the last Alice." Mallyumpkin mumbled before realizing what she had said. Furry hands flew to her mouth, and she looked at him with something akin to horror. "Excuse me. I spoke rashly without thinking. I- I –"

"No harm done," he said breezily, although he felt himself tensing up at the comment. "You're allowed to speak as you wish, dear friend. I'm no Red Queen." He reminded gently. Mallyumpkin looked down shamefully, but she nodded.

Inside, the young woman was grasping the small bottle with the intent to drink to her proper size. A beam of shaky light from the lamps above wavered upon her, and in a single moment, the Hatter realized something that had never come across his mind.

She had aged.

**--**

"_Hatter," she says in that queer way that made it sound like 'Hatta'. Secretly, he enjoys the way she says his name, but as she has never asked him, he has found no need to bring it up. "What's it like being an adult?"_

_The question stops him in the middle of his pouring tea. He puts the kettle down unceremoniously, sloshing its hot brown contents all along his hand and sleeves._

_It was an odd notion, especially since the Hatter himself had never really pondered it. _

_He'd never actually considered himself an adult. Adults were people who made important decisions, did things that weren't fun but pretended they were, and, most importantly of all, did the stuffiest things imaginable and called them 'trendy'. The most important decision he'd ever made had consisted of what sort of tea did he want to try that day, and whether or not he should offer his guests a scone or two._

_So, of course, when the question was thus thrust upon him, it caught the madman a tad bit off guard._

"_I don't really know," he says after a moment, tapping his chin ponderously. "It's a bit like…like being a fat hermit crab."_

"_Hermit crab?" she squeaks, but he ignores her remark and continues,_

"_A hermit crab that's eaten too much, and then some ocean tide comes along and pulls him out of his nice, comfortable shell and plops him down into a shell that is much too tight for his own skin and much to stuffy for him to think straight. And then since he's so tight in his shell all he can do is sit around and pay taxes." He finishes with a shrug, sipping his tea as if to say 'Ah, well.'_

"_I wasn't aware crabs had to pay taxes. Odd," she wonders softly, and her eyes sparkle in that way that the Hatter enjoys more than the odd way she calls his name._

"_All's odd in Underland." He remarks, setting his cup down carefully. "If you wouldn't mind passing me a scone?"_

_She complies, but he can tell she's still thinking about something, because her face stays screwed up and her mouth is a thin line._

"_Something the matter?" he asks, averting his eyes only for a moment to pour Mallyumpkin a thimble full of tea._

"_I…" she begins, but trails off as if not sure what to say._

"_I, we, me, see, hot tea, smelly pe – "_

"_Hatter!" she chides. He offers a rueful smile and a sheepish shrug._

"_I was going to say peanuts," he giggles, lying through his teeth and the both of them knowing it._

"_I'm not ever going to grow up," she says suddenly after pausing to allow his giggle fit. "Ever."_

_He raises a fiery brow in question._

"_It's stupid, and horrid. Why should I have to grow up and do things I don't like? I don't have to. And I won't." she adds defensively, as if he's going to try and convince her otherwise._

_He wonders how he is to respond to this._

"_An interesting life choice," he settles for at last, leaning across the table. "And one I hope you pursue."_

**_--_**

The virgin gold of her hair had faded with time to a trodden on blonde-brown. The delicate curves of her face had long since melted, leaving behind only sharp edges and jagged angles. Her pale skin was still the same, but it had garnered a pasty, yellowy tint since he'd last seen it.

Alice was no longer a young child. She was a full-fledged woman.

She had aged so much he found himself feeling a bit disgusted.

_Not disgusted_, he chided himself immediately. _Just…shocked. Because the girl you've…missed came back looking like a completely different person._

They began to move away from the door as the young woman began to advance towards it, and he heard Mallyumpkin whisper into his ear, "It's not our time yet to see her, Tarrant. We'd better shove off before she sees us."

He nodded slowly, moving to a standing position before he turned. He cast one last glance back towards the door.

Was that the Alice he'd dreamt of? Possibly. Possibly not. Would she remember him? Possibly. Possibly not. Would she still love him, as she told him all that time ago?

Possibly. Possibly not.

**xxoxxoxxoxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Of course not.

**Author's Note:** Uh, let me first apologize for taking so long to do this. I feel terrible. I promised a chapter in a couple weeks, and here we are, two weeks later, with it finally being posted. Ugh. I'm terrible. And on top of that, this was thrown together because I just wanted to get it off my hard-drive. If the quality you expect isn't there, I apologize in advance.

If anything in here confuses me, just message/review and I'll explain/edit what confused you!

This chapter is dedicated to **Ngoc Chau**, for helping me with future chapter ideas and being generally awesome!

**xxx**

**Lolita**

**xxx**

He was extremely tempted.

Tempted to do what, he didn't know. But he did know that, somewhere inside him, the familiar itch of anxiousness was beginning to fester.

"What to do, what to do," he murmured, absentmindedly reaching for a cream cheese Danish. He grabbed it between the tips of his fingers, and when the weight of the pastry proved too much and it toppled back to the table, he didn't even bat an eyelash.

It was just…for once in his life (or whatever this endless existence was - perhaps an Unlife?) he wasn't content with just sitting there. It seemed like suddenly, tea wasn't enough; parties weren't enough; _Wonderland _wasn't enough.

A surge of irritation seized him, and he stuck the slick, sweet filling into his mouth with a brisk pop.

Mallyumpkin watched from her seat beside one of the kettles, worry etched on her little furry face. Clawed paws clenched along the sides of the thimble, and with a resigned sigh she set the steaming make-shift cup down on the stained linen.

"Clearly, you're not enjoying the tea party," Mallyumpkin remarked, words tinged dark with vexation.

Tarrant offered a weak smile in return. "It's a very fine party."

"And _you're _a very terrible liar, Tarrant." the Dormouse retorted immediately, the words tumbling from her pea-sized mouth. Square incisors clacked in place of a snort. "Is there something you'd like to get off your chest?"

"Is there something you'd like to get off _your_ chest?" he snapped childishly, eyelids slowly transitioning to a green-flecked orange.

He wasn't surprised when Mallyumpkin crossed her arms and turned, refusing to answer. She stalked away silently, only stopping when her padded feet hung only slightly over the edge of the table.

"…you didn't have to say that." the words were pale, starkly contrasting the preceding mood of their conversation. Subconsciously, he wondered when their chats started getting so catatonic; but the other part of him acknowledged that she was right.

He'd broached a very taboo subject.

His lips felt strangely dry, but he resisted the urge to touch them. Instead, he stood, drawing himself to his full height as he took the few steps necessary to reach the mouse.

"I apologize." he said quietly, crouching to level with Mallyumpkin. The words hung between them for a full minute, brushing against her back as she still refused to face him. "I wasn't in the right mind. When am I ever?" he joked lightly, and the insanity that made up the core of his essence burned for the immediate return to a lighter mood.

The pregnant silence continued to grow, and he was beginning to think it would simply stretch on to time indefinite like so many other things in Underland, when the small mouse finally turned, lips set in a watery smile.

"I'm sorry, Mally. Truly." he repeated.

It wasn't true. Or, at least, all true. He was still angry, and he was sure it showed - quite literally - on his face. But he gave her a trying half-smile, and she seemed to accept it.

Reaching forward, she lay a small paw on his nose.

"I know it's hard for you to accept this, Tarrant, especially at a time like this," she said quietly after a moment, large eyes looking directly into his own, "But she wasn't the only one who loved you. So…so please stop acting that way.

And once again, that wavering smile emerged like a beacon, and he found himself hurt and comforted all at the same time.

But as much as he wanted to take the words to heart as Mallyumpkin's, all he could hear was a lilting, nymphetic voice calling, calling, calling him…

Like so long, long ago.

**xxx**

_The space between them is vast as an ocean, and as he sits there in silence, he can't quite understand why. From the corner of his eye he watches her shiver, drawing her thin arms around herself in a vain attempt to counter the cold._

_Finally, he can't take it anymore._

"_Alice?" he turns to look at her, but she does not move. A faint frown touches his lips as he reaches out, resting a large palm on her shoulder. It feels like ice under his skin; an involuntary tremor runs through him._

"_Alice?"_

_Pale digits curl against Victorian lace. The young girl bites her lip, and he worries slightly at this. "What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing." her words are short and biting, and for reasons he cannot explain it hurts him, deeply. He wraps an arm around her, drawing her closer until they are knee to knee before he reaches out and lightly takes hold of her chin, turning her to look at him._

_What he sees shocks him._

_Her eyes, once a vibrant shade of cobalt, are dull and flat, as colorless and glossed over as a smooth stone. The flesh beneath her eyes is baggy and wet from silent tears and sickness, and he can see in the pale moonlight that the pink skin there is diffusing into green. Her nostrils are inflamed, and a thick trail of excretion dribbles down her cheek._

"_Oh, Alice…" is all he can say, wrapping himself around her in a hug. And suddenly the white noise between them is lifted: she lays her forehead against his chest and cries, cries, cries as he rocks her, shutting his eyes at the sound of her labored breathing._

"_How could I let this happen to you?" he whispers. He speaks to himself, but she answers anyway, pushing her pale palms against his chest, staring up at him with cloudy eyes._

"_Because you love me," she says softly, pausing as if those words mean the world to her, and she smiles weakly at him. "You love me too much to notice something's wrong with me. And I love you too." _

_His heart pangs at the conviction in her voice._

_Love you? He thinks. How could I love you and let this happen? _

_And he begins to cry, wide-eyed, silent, and unnoticed; because Alice has relaxed in his grip and dozed off._

_How could I? How could I?_

_He asks silently, looking but not seeing into the night._

_He asks, but receives no answer._

**xxx**

He wondered when he'd gotten so….testy.

There was a time when the Hatter hardly ever snapped or raised his voice above an excited chatter. Sometimes, on the days when he could remember the Past better than the Present, he could recall entire moments and conversations where all he did was chortle and smile.

But now, it seemed a foreign thought. As the days progressed, so did his anger, until the point where he almost considered cancelling - Queen forbid - a tea party for the fear that in the throes of anger he would toss the March Hare into a kettle and hold the lid until the bubbles stopped.

Not that he hadn't considered doing that on a good day, but, still.

It had gotten to the point that his…_fits_ became so obtrusive that, finally, a very irate Petunia stopped him.

"Tarrant," she began, ruffling her pink petals and straightening her stem, "it has come to the Golden Afternoon's attentions that you have not been in your right mind as of late."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't been yourself." she a

mended quickly, picking up on the fact that, well, he was _never_ in the right mind. He simply looked at her. The creases of her face pinched into a scowl.

"If this is because of Alice's return -"

"Petunia. Please." his words came out sharper than necessary, but he didn't bother apologizing. The flower gave him a long look.

"Fine, Tarrant." she said bitterly after a moment. "But don't ever say that we didn't try to protect you from that girl."

"Good evening, Petunia."

"Really, she's a good for nothing tramp and -"

"_Good evening_, Petunia."

And as suddenly as it had come, his anger boiled over and away, leaving the Hatter cold and empty feeling.

Sitting down in the middle of the ramshackle road, he let his thoughts drift to better days.

**xxx**

"_Curious."_

_The words are uttered with such intensity that it seems only proper that the man straightens, turning his back on the flat glass of waves._

"_Curious?" he repeats, immediately interested in her activities. He steps away from the sandy shoal, no longer reminiscing over the many times they have come here spontaneously, and enters the copse of trees._

_Scattered on the grey-green patches of grass, Alice lay spread-eagle , holding a fat brown magnifying glass over her face. He notices the runs in her stockings with a smile, although he does not know why the sight of this makes him happy._

_One cobalt eye blinks at him. Suddenly she sits up, grinning up at him. _

"_Did you know," she begins excitedly, flipping onto her hands and knees as she runs her fingers along the patchily covered ground, "that the term 'millipede' is actually a deception? Most millipedes only have around eighty limbs! See?" _

_Finding what she is looking for on the ground, she brings her palm up to show him; a long, brindle colored insect, wriggling wildly against the vanilla flesh of her hand._

"_Indeed," he says softly, and, after acquiring her nod of approval, extends a hand. Moving slowly, she tilts her hand, sliding the bug into his large palm._

_It is cold, and slightly clammy against the heat of his hand, but in a strange way, it is a welcome change to the faintly humid air. _

_It scuttles along his palm, thin antennae brushing inquisitively against his skin. He grins when it coils around his index._

"_Curios indeed." he laughs, ruffling her hair with his free hand. Beside him, Alice beams._

_And when she does so, he can't help but smile back._

**_xxx_**

"Are you planning on obstructing traffic forever, or just until I get annoyed? Because you've already achieved the latter of the two."

The Hatter's eyes snapped open and he turned, running a hand through his fiery mop with a slightly sheepish expression.

Absolem's manacled eye glared up at him. Immediately, the irritated expression within them dissolved, leaving behind only a mix of serious and sorrowful.

"We need to talk."


End file.
